


The Morning Star Returns

by typoqueen



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Fallen Angels, Gen, Kink, Samifer - Freeform, feather kink, feathers - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-11
Updated: 2013-09-11
Packaged: 2017-12-26 07:37:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/963302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/typoqueen/pseuds/typoqueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I may be the Morning Star, but you are the moon, and you shine as I shine."</p><p>Her loyalty was doubtless, infinite and bruising against her mind; kneel, love, give, accept. He had chosen her for a reason, and the reason was set in the stone of time, the stones that had built the foundations of the palaces of Hell. Those palaces which rightfully belonged to them both, for she had earned her crown.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Morning Star Returns

After Crowley's deposition there had been a great cry of joy from the common dwellers in Hell. The nobility, too, were pleased. He had no right, that pitiful _salesman_ , to take up the position in the absence of the true King. He had bypassed the elections, which would have never even nominated him. A crossroads demon, who thought himself above and beyond his designated rank, who sought to capture souls and stack profits and live richly. He was _not_ the King, and every member of Hell-- from the lower class to the top-- they had all despised him.

Abaddon had been cheered when she marched through the infernal cold, brandishing the head of Crowley's vessel. They adored her, their Knight, their saviour. And non would be more fitting to rule Hell in the place of Lucifer until his return. She had accepted the title humbly; the Queen of Hell. She wore it with pride and honour, and did everything within her power to do her Lord proud. And, oh, he would be proud, she would make sure of it. The crown fit her perfectly, but she rarely wore it. Abaddon did not want others to think she was lording it over them or pressing her power for personal gain. She was a just, if slightly deranged, ruler, and they all but worshipped her for it. They knew that she had Hell's best interests at heart, unlike the pretender Crowley.

At night she would lie in her royal bed chamber, although sleep was unnecessary and evaded her on most occasions, and she would think upon the image of her Master. She remembered when they were but fledglings in Heaven, their wings so light and soft and humming with new energy. He was the favourite, of course, the Morning Star. God had loved him above all else, until the humans. She recalled sitting with Lucifer, their fingers running smoothly through one another's wings, disentangling stray feathers and sending shivers down each others spines at the sensitive touch. That was where they were when God had created Mankind, that ugly, beautiful race of naked apes who could barely talk or walk or eat, and who had relied upon other forces to even create fire.

Lucifer had not liked it, not at all. In a fit of rage, he had torn a handful of feathers from Abaddon's wing, discarding them  to the floor like they were nothing, inconsequential. God ignored it; he didn't care for her. It was when Lucifer had tried to gain the support of Michael that their Father had cast his cruel eyes upon the disobedient, rebellious son. There was no trial, but Lucifer was cast down, falling from grace like a penny from a height. He fell heavy and hard.

The grief had been too much to bear for many of the angels. Gabriel had already fled, the conflict affecting him the worst in his young and impressionable age. The fledgling had gone-- joined the humans! Abaddon wouldn't do that, no. She wanted to find Lucifer, wanted to run her fingers through his feathers again, show him someone still loved him, tell him that they could always be together. They would always have someone to love.

For the last time in her existance as an angel, she forgave. Abaddon let the fistful of blue-white feathers drift from her grasp where she had saved them from the ground, and let them float effortlessly through the air, drifting on currents in the air until they found their way to him, their private message.

And so she tored out her own grace, peeling it from her body in agony, writhing against the personal torture she committed.

And she fell. For him.

But that had been millennia ago, and Abaddon had only seen him briefly, where they had resided in Hell. It had barely taken a decade at the dawn of time for her soul to become corrupt in the infernal palaces. She was no longer an angel, but nor was she a demon. She was greater than both, a mix made from in between. She was powerful and strong, and fiercely loyal to her Lucifer. Her King and Lord and Master. He had been her everything.

An announcement throughout the grand palace shook her from her thoughts and she sat up in her bed. 

_Lucifer lives. Lucifer walks the earth. Lucifer is RISEN._

She found that it was true, and vanished from that place, reappearing on the Chosen Field, falling to her knees before him.

Abaddon looked down, submissive only for him, eyes fixed on the ground where Lucifer's feet rested on the charred grass. Sizzling heat coarsed through her knees at the scorch marks on the ground where the cage's door had burned. He brought a hand gently to her face. His touch was icily cold, a deathly caress that chilled her to the bone and made her meat-suit quiver. Her eyes were closed, shut tight against His magnificence.

"Look at me, faithful Knight," He commanded, and she looked up. He was truly a splendid being, perfection in His true vessel, Sam Winchester. It was just as it was supposed to be. He looked like a real God. Abaddon could barely hold his gaze for longer than a second before her eyes were cast down once more. Lucifer held her chin then, and tugged it upwards. "I permit you to look at me. Stand."

The redheaded Knight stood then, as he had wanted, and held back a diamond teardrop that formed in her eye at her sheer pleasure that He had returned for her to love and serve and cherish again. "You're back," she whispered, but He did not answer.

Instead, he crushed His lips to her in a bruising kiss, the passion of a thousand years of separation flowing between them. He sucked gently on her tongue, and she offered it to Him freely, every ounce of her love and trust and desire to please Him on her lips and breath as she sighed into Him. Lucifer's arms were around her, holding her up and supporting all of her weight, her feet a few inches off the ground as His tall vessel lifted her, carried her, held her close.

When she pulled away from the kiss, he tugged her back with a bite to her lips, growling at her. Of course. He'd been shut away; all He wanted now was closeness and proximity to heal the wounds that had been inflicted while He was locked away from those who were loyal to Him.

"I feel you," He whispered into her mouth. But what he meant was  _you are mine._

"I waited for you," Abaddon whimpered into His neck where she now pressed her face. "I waited lifetimes. It was all for you. _All_ for you."

"I know," He said, and what He meant was  _I saw it all, and I am grateful._

When she opened her eyes, they were no longer in the field, but in her chambers again; He had brought her home. She was scooped into His arms, and somehow He was utterly attractive inside the younger Winchester brother. Lucifer's spark caused a sinister, beautiful gleam in Sam's green-hazel-perfect eyes, the moraines and dunes of his irises' stroma stretching out into oblivion in fragile parallel lines diving behind his pupils. 

"Oh, Lord," she whispered as she looked up at Him.

He laughed then, amused by her simple utterance, and knowing full well what she had meant. Lucifer pushed her body down onto her bed, incinerating the material that covered her vessel's body. "Mine," He growled, and pinned her wrists above her head. Abaddon nodded, her face totally serious save for the beginnings of her usual, unsuppressable grin that would soon make her lips fuller and her teeth shine a brighter white, reminiscent of her old wings.

Lucifer reached into His back pocket with one hand while the other kept her wrists pinned, His clothed body straddling her. He produced a white feather held between thumb and forefinger, delicate and old, and yet treasured and cherished. A baby angel feather, from a fledgling, that had been torn out before its time. He trailed the tip of the feather down the side of Abaddon's face, letting it linger across her jawline.

"After all this time, you kept it..." she said softly, looking up at Him with adoration.

She closed her eyes and leaned into the delicate touch. The feather made its way down her neck, passing over her collar bone, tickling, making her writhe beneath its touch. She squirmed against it, eyes open now, almost pleading with Lucifer to stop. He didn't, of course. He wouldn't. 

The feather whispered across her chest, passing between her breasts. Lucifer brought it sideways, ghosting over a pink nipple, making it stiffen, bringing a gasp from her mouth. He pressed His lips to her other nipple, soft and gentle, before taking it into His mouth, drawing it in and sucking hard, His teeth giving nibbles here and there, making her moan. He smiled against her breast, and she felt it, and it made her smile with happiness.

Then, the feather was dragged downwards again, slipping like sand in a timer, across the flat plane of her stomach. It reached her navel, dipping gently in, swirling a circle around it, then moved lower still. The muscles near her groin instinctively tightened, a shock of pleasure making her moan again. Lucifer was pleased; He kissed her chest, right above her heart, and stroked the feather along her cheekbone.

"Say it," He said. Their old game, even as angels.

"Master," Abaddon whispers hoarsely. "Master!" she calls out, louder, to please Him.

And it does please Him. Lucifer growls happily into her neck and bites her there, hard, drawing blood. She moans out again, bucking her hips up against Him, begging him for more. She has done well, she has earnt it. He sucks her neck, bruising her, and she arches her back for Him. And suddenly, His hand is between her thighs, one finger dipping into her sweet, hot wetness, sliding in and out until it is slick with her lust. He curls it inside of her, instantly finding that spot inside of her that makes her call out again, moaning, writhing against him in pleasure. 

"Yes," He purrs against her collar bone. "Yes, I am. And I reward my loyal servants, for I am a loving Master."

Lucifer slipped in another finger, stretching her open, scissoring them inside her to bring her pleasure. Abaddon can't contain herself-- she's saying His name, her Master, her King, her God. His thumb moves against her clit, pressin hard, punishing and rewarding at the same time. Her red hair is spilled out around her face, and He thinks then that she must still be at least a  _little_ bit angelic, to be so beautiful.

He curls His fingers inside her hard, both fingertips pushing upwards while his thumb presses down harder. She's so close, even He can feel the tension in her muscles, the way her legs tense up underneath Him, the way she holds her breath for lenghtened moments at a time, silently begging for release. 

The Morning Star licks her neck, lapping up the blood he had drawn earlier. She tastes wonderful. He trails kisses down her neck, chest, breasts, eliciting cries of pleasure from her lips. His mouth ends up where his thumb had been, sucking her clit in between His lips, His teeth grazing gently. It's too much; she spills over the edge of the precipice, falling for him again, always falling. 

His fingers dig in  _hard_ and He bites her clit-- enough to hurt her if she were just a human, but she was so much more. 

Abaddon comes hard against His ministrations, her hips bucking upwards and her eyes closing as she yells His name, the sound like paradise.

Somewhere between the feather and her orgasm, Lucifer had removed His clothes, and now, before she had even finished coming, He was inside of her. His hardened length, oh so generous, filled her up and prolonged her orgasm. He pounded hard into her, taking her, taking what He wanted. Thats what she was for, wasn't it? He drove into her wet, hot cunt again and again, His face caught in a snarl, a hand raking her thigh and leaving bloody fingernail marks. 

Abaddon could only groan against his pace, the afterglow not letting her stop, not releasing her from the rapture He had brought to her. 

"Fuck-- fuck, oh, God..." she whined, head thrust backwards. 

"No, not God!" Lucifer shouted, rage in His voice. "Say it! Say my name! Tell me who I am!"

"M-Master, Lucifer, you are the most beautiful, the-- the only one I loved in Heaven-- You... You're th--the Morning Star," Abaddon cried out, her voice broken as He took her like she wanted to be taken. 

"Ahh-- Yes-- Ahh." His throat gave off low, guttural groans as He drew His pleasure from her, and within a few hard thrusts, He was coming inside of her. She clenched her walls around Him, locking Him inside and holding Him close. He finally releases, spilling hot come into her body, holding Himself still above her as He finally releases her wrists. Abaddon's arms go around Him, pulling Him into her, and they collapse together, a tangle of limbs atop the sheets of her royal bed, which is rightfully His now.

Lucifer strokes her red hair, pulling her close so that her head is on his chest.

"Are you not my most loyal one?" He asks of her, to which she nods in response. 

"Always."

"Do you not give yourself freely to me, more than any others have done?"

"Forever."

"Were you not the first I chose to lead my armies?"

"I was. Thank you."

"Are you not as beautiful as I?"

"No. No, I am not. Never. You are the most beautiful, the grandest," she whispered softly, with her cheek pressed against His chest.

"Do not say such things, Abaddon. You are beautiful, you are strong, you are magnificent. We are cut from the same cloth, you and I. We were made for each other, and this is how it will be. I may be the Morning Star, but you are the moon, and you shine as I shine."

Her loyalty was doubtless, infinite and bruising against her mind; kneel, love, give, accept. Lucifer kissed the top of her head, and cradled her, letting his wings show through his true vessel. He could hear Sam Winchester's disgusted thoughts buried deep inside the mind of the vessel, but it didn't matter. Lucier was back, and He was here for good. Here to rule over his realm as the strong and purposeful leader it so required. With Abaddon by His side. He had chosen her for a reason, and the reason was set in the stones of time, the stones that had built the foundations of the palaces of Hell. Those palaces which rightfully belonged to them both, for she had earned her crown, and they would live forever, and nobody would ever forget the King and Queen of Hell.


End file.
